I had a dream last night I was some post-apocolyptic motorcycle warrior kid and Amy Winehouse was my aunt and I was into her but her husband would fuck me up... in a family way.

So Beckler kind of exploded at me last night, and it makes me think it wouldn't be smart for me to move to Austin with him. I have to figure it all out and that shit... but I'm kind of sick of having pseudo-romantic relationships with older guys who eventually turn into financial support. My fantasies of being all hip and urban and what Imagini calls "sophisitcat" grow stronger with each day. I need a fuckin' job.

Gays are so wierd.

So I feel good about moving. Right now, my flow chart is:

Got a job offer? ----> Is it a rad job? ----> Take it and stay.
l yes l yes
l no l no
l l
Hello Austin. <--------

But thinking about it, I just want to go. There's something awfully enticing about starting over when I have some semblance of being a real person under my belt-no one around I've had shamefully hooked up with or people that have memories of me doing really immature things or bars I've had multiple breakdowns in (another reason to not drink). I have the rad fantasies of having a nothern accent (do Texans find our accents appealing or is it just vica-versa? Let's hope for the best) and charming multiple people not only with my whimsy (I've decided I'm going to keep a human hand in the freezer, or perhaps a fake cat) but also with my astonishing ability to make money while somehow maintaining my inspiring chill. Also, I want a bulldog and two barn cats.